


When the Fairytales are Flawed

by ludulfiantimes15



Category: Cinderella - All Media Types, Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Sleeping Beauty - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:17:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ludulfiantimes15/pseuds/ludulfiantimes15
Summary: Prince Charming searches for love, though a meddling mage called Mico keeps getting in the middle of all his romances. In the end, he has to decide...is it really a princess he wants? Features fairytales with alternate endings, mainly gay ones, and the princesses all get much larger roles and way more personality.





	1. Chapter 1

Charming whirled the beautiful girl around and around. He couldn't stop looking at her glistening red lips and the frothy lace snugly wrapped around her beautiful body. It was too bad Cinderella was too busy staring at him and being nervous to talk, or even get to know him at all. She hadn’t shown any signs of personality yet, and frankly, he was starting to feel a little bored. But she looked like a beautiful blond present, wrapped up all nicely and ready to be gifted to some lucky, lucky person. She smiled, and he smiled back dazzled. He planned on being that lucky person. He glanced at one of the floor length mirrors in the ballroom, and saw their reflection: a perfect couple, the crowds around them standing around and gazing in awe. Yup, she would be great for his reputation. He gave his reflection a manly, resolute nod. Yup, he was gonna lock that down. Alright, his next move was gonna be difficult. He looked around the very large and bright ballroom. It was pretty hard to know for sure with all those people, but he was reasonably sure there was no blindingly irritating blue-eyed sorcerer hiding in one of the crowds of richly-dressed nobles. Oh shit; there was one beautiful dark-haired girl in red silk glaring at him. He was surprised; normally wouldn’t she be giving that murderous gaze to Cinderella? The rest of the noble girls were staring daggers at Cinderella, jealous that she got to monopolize the extremely handsome darling of the royal family. But this one looked like it would be very unfortunate for Charming if he ever decided to take a stroll down a dark alley. 

Cinderella followed his puzzled gaze and gasped, clutching his arm a little closer. She sounded a bit breathless, and looked a bit flushed, “That’s my stepsister. What..does she recognize me?” He was curious about what she said, but he had to move fast, before that damned Mico with his black curls and stupid body that was taller than Charming’s so that bastard always was looking down on him and his stupid eyes and his stupid- no. He couldn’t afford to think about that dumbass wizard right now. He had to focus and propose to Cinderella before Mico could somehow show up and ruin it like he always did. He cleared his throat and lowered his lashes seductively, “Darling,” he murmured, “Would you like to go out on the balcony, get some fresh air?” She turned bright red and squeaked out, “yes.” He twirled her further away from the other dancers, and danced her right through the open balcony door, where a sudden wave of fresh air and quiet swept over them. He looked out at the dark castle grounds, and the beautiful night sky and felt much more relaxed. He turned back to Cinderella, who looked like a pretty and delicate flower, and suddenly felt shy, and very nervous. He said shakily, “I..I would like to get to know you more.” She smiled, not dazzling this time, but very warm, and he suddenly liked her much more than when they had been twirling stiffly together, watched by hundreds. “Nobody’s ever really had much interest in me before. You really want to know about me?” “Yeah,” he grinned, and gave a exaggeratedly comic bow, “I’m Charming. I like pudding and riding very quickly, and I have very annoying younger siblings.” He offered his hand to her, “So very nice to make your acquaintance.” She giggled and curtsied back to him, also exaggeratedly formal, “I am Cinderella. I have no siblings, I like to make dresses and pretty things, and I love the color pink and birds. I know, I’m terribly cliche.” They began talking, neither of them really noticing that they were speaking as friends instead of with romantic inclinations. While they were discussing their favorite type of books, Cinderella suddenly stumbled over her own shoe, and he caught her in his arms, their faces close.

“Sorry,” she giggled nervously, “I suck at wearing high heels, and this pair is very fragile.” “No problem,” he laughed, “I know you just wanted a look at my big strong muscles.” She began to laugh, but was interrupted by a melodramatic shout. “No!” yelled a very familiar, very, very, annoying voice, “DON’T look at his big strong muscles.” Charming sighed, and looked around. Sure enough, there he was, in all of his stupid bright-blue waistcoated glory. But what was surprising was that there was a second person with him, the dark-haired girl from before. “Yeah,” she shouted, “Don’t look at his muscles, Ellie you fucker!” The two of them swooped in like brightly-colored avengers, and separated the two of them, the girl pulling Cinderella off to a dark corner and Mico pinning Charming against the balcony railing with his body, which Charming did not like at all, thank you very much. He was forced to stare straight up into Mico’s burning eyes, and to look at the moonlight gleaming on Mico’s porcelain cheekbones. The man had a face like a doll and perfect features which seemed distinctly unfair to the rest of the male species, Charming thought, distracted by the way the stars seemed to be forming a halo around Mico’s messy curls. Mico leaned in even closer, his breath on Charming’s cheek. Charming felt suddenly dizzy and was forced to grab onto Mico’s shoulders for balance, not that he wanted to of course. He felt himself melting a little. He was obviously being weakened by some sort of evil magic. Mico tilted his chin up towards him, and whispered, “Don’t forget who you belong to, Charming,” his eyes darkening as his gaze went down to Charming’s lips.


	2. Ball continued

Charming gasped a little, and the sound jolted Mico out of his intense state. He backed away from Charming, but Charming still couldn’t look away from his burning gaze. “You belong to your people. You belong to your kingdom, not an extremely suspicious girl that no one knows. Your allegiances are a matter of the highest importance to the state, and the political repercussions of any actions you take are felt by every last citizen of the kingdom.” Charming sputtered, bright red, “What? What? How...how is any of this your business?!” Mico seemed to glow with power in the moonlight as he answered seriously, still not taking his gaze from Charming’s face, “I am the Duke of Wunderfull, the provider for all my dependents there. I am the forty-ninth and youngest member of the King’s Council. And I am the Last Mage left in the land. You, my prince, are indeed my business. Your marriage, when it comes, must be beneficial to your land. And one of my most sacred duties will be the assurance of it.” He smiled a little wistfully, “Personal feelings, dear prince, can’t be a priority for anyone.” Mico looked around the balcony, at the scented dark gardens below, and the glowing warm ballroom opposing it, and then back at the flushed golden prince. He gathered his black cloak around him and tipped his pale face up to the stars. It hurt less to look at them. He drew a breath, gaze still fixed on the heavens. “Goodbye Charming. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon; you do have a way of getting yourself into compromising situations.” Charming stretched his hand out and called, “Wait!” But there was a crackle of gold, and in the next instant, the Last Mage had disappeared. “Wait,” Charming said again, his voice softer. “Stupid fucking wizard.” 

He took a deep breath and straightened up, abruptly realizing the presence of Cinderella and the angry girl. They were both staring at him and his disheveled appearance. The girl in the red dress broke the awkward silence, “He’s right you know. The two of you would only bring trouble with your union. A prince and Cinderella? It wouldn’t work.” Charming felt both angry and so very tired, “I just went outside with her. And why would you disparage her like that? She’s kind and beautiful, and nobly bred, I’m sure.” Cinderella broke away from the side of the girl, and went to him, threading their hands together. “Charming,” she said, looking up at him with pretty eyes, her voice gentle, “I was once the daughter of a very wealthy man, but the past doesn’t really matter, does it? Right now I’m just the lowly scullery maid to a dragon of a stepmother. And I don’t know that I’m ready to marry, and I’m certainly not qualified for life as a royal. I would hate it, and the people would hate it.” She chuckled softly, “I’d probably get poisoned. But tonight? Tonight was magical, and I loved every minute of it. Your interest in me made me realize that I should be interested in myself. I’m done being a doormat for my stepsisters and stepmother. I’m going to start an independent life as a dressmaker, get my fairy godmother to help me out with capital. I’m going to live my own life, and do whatever I want for the first time. Charming, thank you for tonight.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, then handed him her broken glass shoe. They both laughed, and she said, “Keep it, it’s a souvenir. I really hope you find happiness, Charming.” She looked behind him to the girl in red, who again didn’t look too happy. “Come on, ugly stepsister,” Cinderella said lightly, “I need to be home before midnight, and I need to get a ride in your carriage. I’m not riding back in the pumpkin.” The girl looked stunned, “Wha-did you just try to give me an order?” Cinderella smiled, “Priscilla darling, get ready, cause there’s gonna be a lot of changes in store, and I’m not going to stick around and take all your crap for much longer.” She left, and after a moment, Priscilla darted after her, calling, “Hey wait, listen to me! Cinder!” The balcony was now empty, except for the lonely prince. He squeezed the delicate glass heel of the shoe, which shone, fragile and small, in his palm. He smiled sadly down at it, but his mind wasn’t really on its owner. Instead, he was thinking of the edge of a black cloak, the occupant already gone and far, far away from him.


	3. Morning after the Ball

Prince Charming, with much dignity and in the most elegant manner possible, sipped his tea, his posture upright, and his blue eyes gleaming in the early morning sun. Truly, he was the epitome of politeness and common decency. Unfortunately, he could not say the same for his friend and sisters, all whom were causing mayhem at the breakfast table. “So he comes out of nowhere-” his (now former) friend, Os, gasped, “and then, and then he shouts ‘Hands off the muscles! Stud muffin here belongs to me!’ and all the guards in the ballroom decided not to interrupt because they all want Mico to be the royal hubby! And the whole time Charming’s just pinned to the balcony, all red and gaping like a flounder!” All three of them dissolve into laughter, while Charming inspects his toast carefully. He decides that there is far too little strawberry jelly on it, and devotes himself to carefully spreading more on. Naturally, he could not reply to their childish teasing, so absorbed in the jelly was he. “Hey Charming,” his younger sister Miranda called, “Was it terribly romantic? Will I get to be a bridesmaid?” He didn’t reply, but gave her a searing glare over the top of the jelly. Her dimples and angelic face clearly hid her black-hearted soul. He turned back to his toast, knowing only there would he find solace. He whispered mournfully to the toast, “Only you understand me.” His toast made no reply. His older sister, Beatrice, wiped her tears of laughter away, and tried to calm down. She smiled at him a bit more kindly, tossing back her black hair and saying, “Charming? Charming, why are you so sulky? It’s very romantic, the way Mico showed up. He’d be a great match for you and the kingdom, and didn’t you always use to love playing with him so much when you were a kid?” Charming took a bite out of his toast, his noble gaze resting impassively on the far away horizon. 

“Oh cut out your whole stoic suffering crap,” Os said impatiently, “We’ll leave you alone about everything if you tell us why.” Charming unbent his posture, “Fine. Yeah, we did play together as kids.” He thought back, remembering the way Mico refused to wear anything but yellow and how he was still learning to control his magic back then, so that colorful sparks and eruptions usually followed his toddling footsteps. Mico would always cling to him, and cried if anyone separated him.” Because,” Charming slowly began, remembering when they were eleven, and Mico had fallen into the hidden green lake on the edge of the woods, and how scared he had been when Mico didn’t resurface, how horrified he was at the undisturbed surface of the lake. The way he had jumped in frantically after him, and Mico had to grab him because he didn’t know how to swim, and then the way Mico had deposited him on the sunny grass bank, wet and clothes stained with green algae. The way Mico looked, the water glistening on him as he laughed and showed off the shimmering mermaid’s tail he had transformed his legs into. Charming continued, “Because,” he said, “He was a child with me. But neither of us are children anymore, are we?” Os looked at him in disbelief, “That’s your reason? That’s a terrible reason!” He pushed back his chair and stretched, “Well, I’m off to go train, see you all later.” His sisters soon followed Os, clattering out of the room. “Because,” he said to the empty table, “because he does not love me, and there is no use in pining over a horrible wizard. Because he is frustrating and all too dramatic and distant. And also,” he paused, addressing this next bit to his jelly-covered toast, “I’m pretty sure he stole my candy when we were five.” The toast failed to respond adequately, and after a bit, Charming sighed and pushed his chair back. The morning was still fresh, and wallowing in the past did no one good. He gave a very manly nod. He would continue the search for his future wife, interfering wizard or not! With that, he strode out of the room. The future, with all of its sparkling possibilities, waited.


	4. In the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping Beauty POV

The nursemaid had pulled her face close to hers, in the shadow of the roses, so that Rose’s thick hair fell on her face, the nursemaid’s hazel eyes looking at her urgently. “Rose, pay careful attention. When you have a daughter, never name her Gwendolyn. The name will always bring betrayal and blood. It's a beautiful name, a beautiful charm to guarantee a beautiful daughter, but beauty is its own curse, isn’t it?” She smiled sadly. She didn’t have to say it again, for Rose understood. After all, they were in the top part of a castle surrounded by thousands of blood-red roses, with thorns thicker than a man’s wrist, and sharper than the sharpest blade. The rest of the castle lay slumbering, in a sleep more absolute than death. She and the nursemaid wandered, half-asleep, and the world seemed to be confined to just them, and this, their solitary multicolored dream spread all around them. As far as she could tell, she and the nursemaid (called so even though she was only four years older than Rose) were the only ones who could periodically wake up from the sleep, thought they didn’t always wake up at the same time. She was never really sure, each time she woke, of how long she had been asleep, but every time the roses had grown more, and the hallways had become dustier. Sometimes she would wander the hallways alone, watching the court sleep, and the slow encroachment of nature in the courtyards, the fountains thick and green with algae. She never seemed to need to eat or drink. But after a day or so, she would feel overwhelmingly tired again, and so she would crawl back into her canopied bed in the round room at the top of the castle, where the nursemaid lay sleeping, and she would watch the pretty dreaming face of the nursemaid till she was lulled back into the sea of sleep all around her. Then her blond hair mingled with the nursemaid’s brown hair, their faces close on the pillow, and together they slept, for days or for years, they never knew. 

But on this day, both of them were awake in the hazy light of late afternoon. The nursemaid continued, “The one who cursed you and, by association, this castle, was named Gwendolyn.” She said it lazily; they were sprawled in Rose’s turret bedroom, high above the ground, where the only sounds were the birds chirping, and the wind blew gently through the sun-dappled room, bringing the scent of roses with it. Rose smiled slowly, looking at the nursemaid’s pink lips. Sometimes she wondered if it was a curse at all, alone together with the nursemaid, in their small rose-filled world. “She was the resident witch in our village outside the castle gates, and she used to wander through the woods at night, singing her song of the night. Her silver voice would drift towards us, and the dark melody helped the children to fall asleep. We all loved her then.” Rose frowned slightly; she didn’t like to think of the nursemaid loving the witch. “You thought she was beautiful?” The nursemaid looked far away, “Yes, she was beautiful. But one day she saw a golden king riding through her woods, dazzling her eyes in the sunlight. This was not unusual, for we weren’t the only ones to love the sound of her voice in the dark. The man had been visiting her for many months, his eyes dark and intent upon her.” The nursemaid paused here, thinking of the dark bruises on the pale skin of the witch, and how, when she had touched them as a child, the witch had blushed, her ruby lips glowing. Rose nudged her, “Yes,” said the nursemaid slowly, “No one faulted the man for loving the witch. But he was not just a man, and the witch must have realized this when she saw him in the woods, a crown on his head, and his queen by his side.” Rose felt heavy. “My father,” she said. It was not a question. “Yes,” said the nursemaid,“Your father.” Rose stirred a little, thinking of her dignified parents, sleeping regal and still in the huge throne room, her father with his salt and pepper beard, and the creases in his forehead. “So,” said Rose quietly, “She condemned me because my father broke her heart.” The nursemaid reached out and held her hand, “I’m sorry, but I thought you deserved to know.” She squeezed Rose’s hand, “ But she will let you free for true love. You have to understand that his betrayal drove her mad. In a way, I think she is trying to protect you, keeping you high above others, lofty and hidden away from men and their desires.” Rose huffed, “She’s crazy.” The nursemaid moved closer, and Rose’s breath hitched; she couldn’t help but notice that she could almost see down the nursemaid’s bodice from this angle. 

The nursemaid looked at her, “Someone told me once that when the witch looked at you in your cradle, small and laughing in white, she turned pale, and touched your chubby fingers. Right before she spoke the words of the curse, she grasped your hand, and said that you looked like a heart, like her former white unsullied heart.” Rose looked at her, silently urging her to continue. “And after she left, your mother rushed over and wiped off your face with a white handkerchief, for the witch had cried, and her tears still covered your young face.” Rose said in a fragile voice, “Thank you for telling me...But why are we the only two able to wake from the curse?” The nursemaid answered, “I don’t know why you are able to resist the sleep so often, but I have always worn the willow charm the witch gave me when I was just a child in the village. It protects against spells, and ironic indeed isn’t it, that I have been using it against hers?” “Yes,” said Rose softly. She could feel her eyes getting heavier, and rested her golden head on the nursemaid’s shoulder. “But now the time for talking of the past is over again.” The nursemaid wrapped her arms about the princess, and lowered the two of them back down to the bed. “Yes,” she murmured, and the two of them slowly receded back into the world of dreams, bodies close together like tethered boats. Once again, only breathing filled the little turret room, where time seemed to have no power while the rest of the noisy world continued to live. Roses grew softly, and rain fell, while vines tightened imperceptibly around the castle walls. And the princess slept on.


End file.
